


The Scent of Horses

by terryreviews



Series: Elrond and Lindir [2]
Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Complete, Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-11
Updated: 2013-10-11
Packaged: 2017-12-29 03:38:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1000428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/terryreviews/pseuds/terryreviews
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What lengths will the head servant of the House of Elrond go to win his lord's favor?</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Scent of Horses

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a cute fluff piece I did as a request for someone on Tumblr. I want to expand the fic at some point, I just don't know how to do it ^^; I really hope that you guys enjoy it! Feel free to give feedback, I don't bite :)

Many would think elves impervious to stronger weather, and while that weighs truthful, that did not mean that elves didn’t feel hot and cold nor that they didn’t hold preferences. While they all had the capability to walk on the snow or walk through a desert without burning, they prefered not to. Lindir was no exception, however, he dislike the muggy heated haze summer brought. That was when the suspicion started, questions revisited.

“How strange Lindir would not wish to swim with us.” They muttered to one another as clothes fell to the floor of the bath house or the mud of river banks.

“I wonder what he hides beneath those robes to wear them more close to his body than any other?” They asked as their dried skin rejoiced in icy laps of water, hair undone and floated behind them.

His steps rushed and clipped as he’d walk past them, head raised, eyes forward. The buttons of his robes feeling heavier, more noticeable now.

“It is too hot for long sleeves Lindir. You could make yourself sick.” Erestor had said to him earlier this morning. “We may be more durable but surely you can’t go another summer so shielded. It can hurt even us. At least put thinner robes on.”

That is why he now found himself in his chambers pulling the tunic over his head that he’d not worn since he’d received it 20 summers ago.

And though his skin was shielded from sun, the thin cloth taunted his peace of mind. The garment touched upon his mid-thigh, silky creme fabric swaying with even a slight twitch. He normally didn’t wear tunics and tights alone. Normally heavier, more ornate robes draped round his form

Curse the thin finery that hugged each shape of his body. Could they see? Could they see beyond to the secrets beneath? No, of course not. Elvish fabric soft, elegant, light, but not see through. Still, there was no comfort his more formal attire gave in it’s layers and darker hues.

However, there was no time to dwell. He’d to continue his preperations through the day assisting Erestor with his papers and keeping all those in service to their lord in order. With a glance down to ensure all was in place (belt firmly tightened around his waist, pants tucked under the flap and into his boots) he went to his desk to collect the folders of work he needed to bring to Erestor’s study. Thankfully the pile was smaller today. Peace had some benefits. Mostly it was trading orders between the different elven kingdoms.

Keeping his head high as always, he glided smoothly across the stone floors. His clicking footfalls sharp as always displaying a confidence he did not feel in these clothes.

A few stops along the way entitled good mornings, answering questions, and giving direction to the few servants he came across. And with centuries of practice in diplomatic skills allowed him to ignore the curious eyes that stared at his tunic, studied his leggings. Let them be curious. Let them whisper. He could ignore them as he’d always had with a forward gaze and a sense of pride in his position.

"Ah, I see you took my advice to heart." Erestor smiled warming, letting his eyes dart up and down before meeting his friend’s. Erestor always looked so pleased to see him, and now even more so seeing his words put into practice. Lindir wondered for a moment if Erestor became this glad when Lord Elrond took his council? After all, his words proved correct most of the time when he offered them. In Elvish culture, advice was often thought of as a risk, a double edged sword for both provider and recipiant. However given his role Erestor was one of the most concrete in his convictions and offered them freely to all whom may or (especially in their Lord’s case) may not listen. Lindir grinned at the notion of his Lord’s stubborn personality. Elrond was a strong, independent, intelligent man whom often accepted council into his considerations and made his own choices after long thought. For example, currently he was out with a select group of his men riding in the fields and woods surrounding the city despite both Lindir and Erestor’s suggestions of perhaps spending the day reviewing papers instead of wasting an entire night sleepless instead. He would have to draw him a bath and lay the papers on the bed whilst Elrond rinsed off the scent of horse (a scent Lindir secretly detested and often had to put up with given Elrond’s deep love for the animals).

"Yes." He replied when he came back from thought.

"It looks good on you. I’m glad it made it out of your wardrobe finally. It has been what? Twenty years since I’d given it to you."

Hiding behind his hair as he leaned over to place the folders upon the already cluttered desk Lindir answered softly, “Around that yes. I’ve had one from you every summer for 30 years.”

"Yes, shame you don’t wear them. They flatter your shape well and the lighter shades give you a fresh glow to your more serious disposition. Perhaps if Lord Elrond were to give you such outfits you’d wear them rather than hiding them in their boxes. Or if he were to notice your change once he comes back, it would encourage an effort on your part." Erestor’s soft voice filled with affectionate teasing causing a contagious smile to form upon his younger friend’s pouted lips.

"I wished I never told you of my affections." He reached a hand out to shove his friend playfully.

"You needed someone to pine away to." Erestor said, shrugging his shoulders casually.

Lindir’s frame shot straight up, the stretch in his spine causing a mild pop with the sudden moment.”I do not pine.”

"No, I suppose not. You mope longingly." They both allowed themselves to laugh. Tinkling, soft sounds as they smiled at each other.

"You can be too blunt you realize." Though the smile hadn’t left his lips, Lindir knew Erestor was right. His affections towards Elrond had long been plaguing his mind. The more the time carried on, the harder it was to contain himself inside.

"It serves me well be so. It helps those I speak with realize their folly or strengths." Erestor’s hands glided over to the newly brought files, "You my dear Lindir need to realize your strengths, utilize them outside of work, and at least make an attempt. The worst that could happen is a little embarrassment, a few weeks of avoidance, discomfort, and subsequently it will be forgiven and forgotten." The first page merely an order for some spices requested by their kin in Mirkwood.

"How did it come to discussing this again? I’ve no intention to become anything more than a loyal shadow for our Lord’s use." Red tinged the pale cheeks, irritation beginning to creep into Lindir’s mind.

"You could be more than that. Are worthy of at least trying to be more than that."

"I am not being drawn into this again. I’ve already resigned myself to this state. I am content to merely be there for him. To seeing towards his comfort and happiness. It allows me to be close to him and I am satisfied."

"No, you’re not. But I agree. I won’t draw you into this again. Now if you could, please bring these orders to the stable hands for me. There are some plans drawn up at Elrond’s request for a possible expansion of our stables given the fire that’d destroyed a part of it last month." Erestor held out the orders, drawn on the heavy yellow parchment Elrond preferred to pen his official orders upon.

"Very well." Lindir glanced at the black ink. Elrond’s penmanship more slanted, uniquely rough by Elvish standards. It was beautiful.

 

No elf would tell, even a close friend, a fear of nature nor animal. Elves by their very birth were the guardians of the earth and all creatures within. And hardly a beast could hold comparison with horses in the hearts of elven kin. Majestic, brave animals with fierce spirits, hard to win loyalty, courage to ride out to war, kindness to allow for pleasure and errands to be done upon their backs, all in exchange for shelter, food, water, love. Elrond himself was so fond of the animals he made it a point to ride them all in rotation as to prevent jealousy.

One of his eldest horses, close to the end now, was more like Mithrandir, or Erestor in terms of relationship. Powerful, loving bond. The stead primarily enjoyed his time in one of the more larger stalls, with a sneaked treat of apples brought to him by the lord himself. His lord rarely road this one, merely took him outside to walk by his side in the open air when his time permitted. Sometimes even, he’s spied Elrond coming down at night to visit the stables, pat the horses and ensure their comfort and safety for the night.

Which made it even more difficult for Lindir to stand on the strawed floor of this building that his lord wanted to expand and change the stables to make them more glorious and able to hold even more of the four legged animals than the ones they’d already had.

And once again why the stables were kept at a distance from the main city. While the horses were beloved by the citizens of Rivendell, the stench of them was not. His nose clenched at the excrement, damp straw, muddied earth. The whole moist filth tightened his kin, gritted his teeth. Above most, Lindir disliked to be sullied. And to be sullied with the scent of horses was an additional blow to his mind. Their sounds, their appearance, their large sizes, frightened him though he hid it well, and he didn’t need to carry them around all day. So once he found the stable hand to pass off these plans to, he could be out sooner.

"Lindir?" A deep, kindly voice came from behind him causing him to take his eyes off of the brown mare that’d just snorted at a fly and caught him off guard, to turn around to the voice.

"Lord Elrond?" The thin brows of the minstral’s forehead raised in startled joy and discomfort at being once again so close to his object of desire and especially when so unexpected, in a place that reaked of the thing he feared the most.

 

Dressed in a simple red tunic and tanned leggings, his lord could’ve passed as any elf. Aside from the circlet upon his brow nothing distinctive stood apart in his appearance. The boots that rose to his knees were tattered things, a gift from one of those in his company of guards he often road out with, and on the days he could spare, he wore them on his solo rides. Once Lindir had offered to take them to the shoe smith to make them proper foot wear again. Elrond merely smiled and told him that he preferred the natural state they were in currently.

It was only for a moment that Lindir paid heed to the clothes Lord Elrond donned, for there was a slight breach between his pectorals in the ways of a torn seem. A muscled, firm chest peeked at him, teasing his eyes, daring them to stare, but he could not. Blinking he brought himself to full attention and said,

"Did you enjoy your ride my lord?"

Elrond glanced back at the black horse he’d just put back and said, “We had a bit of a rough morning, but,” His gaze returned to the younger elf’s, “it was very enjoyable. The sun and flowers made such a wonderful view to travel. You would enjoy it Lindir. I know you are no gardener, but I noticed you have a particular fondness for growing your own flowers. The wild blossoms tangled together in the fields and trees are much more stunning when beyond the walls of the city.”

Blushing would be a…young thing to do. And the mistrial had to contain the heat that threatened to redden his cheeks when realization that Elrond knew at least one personal thing about him that hardly a soul would pay attention to, would even know. Such attention to be paid himself.

"I shall have to find time to venture out my Lord Elrond. The walk might be far but your words have me convinced the sight would be worth the trouble." He gave a slight bow of the head in modest thanks.

Elrond’s eye brows tilted in such a puzzled way, “The fields I speak of, though certainly could be walked to, it would make it much faster, and easier, to simply ride out. It would be easier upon your arms should you wish to carry a picnic with you or perhaps a few books to read while you lay among the blooms. And the comparison of wind upon your face, in your hair as you ride in the summer air is matched with hardly any exhilaration.”

"If horses could blush my lord I’m sure they would be with the praise you give them in regards to all the joy they give you."

A surprised laugh brighted the elven lord’s face, the sound loud, deep and short and it threatened to make Lindir’s cheeks red again, “I admit, I am very fond of all of them. Many of my men are as well. We also help breed horses for the other elven kingdoms should they ever need them. We’ve the best trainers, the most focus given we live more on the earth than in forests and trees. Consider riding out with me one morning and I shall bring you to the fields I told you about. I’m sorry I must cut this short but I’ve got to get dressed properly.” The man gestured with a hurried hand at the clothes he’d pulled on. The shapely curves of his muscles through those tights, the skin of his chest tauntingly hinted. And his face, so full of humor and light, handsome and warm.

"Of course, it was delightful speaking with you my lord. I shall see to it that these plans are secured for you."

"Oh just bring those to the room at the far right. That’s where Galdinir spends his time. He’ll be sure to see it." With a casual wave and smile good bye, Elrond turned and left the stables, leaving Lindir’s heart racing, and that fought against blush beat out his conscious efforts and spread to his face when the coast was indeed clear.

"Oh my lord, I wish we had more time to speak like this."

The mare that’d been so restless prior now gave a very loud whine of discomfort as the fly flew out of her ear. All his muscles tightened, all the swooning bliss fled his body and Lindir’s eyes narrowed at the beast. Surely she’d done that on purpose just to vex him? His breath came out in a forced puff. His lord did indeed love the creatures didn’t he? Even offered Lindir a chance to ride with him! He obviously didn’t realize Lindir had never ridden a horse in his life but the simple act of his inviting him along…oh the swoon was coming back. THat bubbling sensation in his stomach, the lightness of his head and the heat of his skin. Oh what a glorious day this was turning out to be!

And it was in that moment he’d came to a realization. That invitation could actually be accepted, if he was willing to put some effort into it. But of course, his kind lord would be worth it.

 

Erestor eyed him carefully when he’d gotten back that night. First he had to remove his boots and clean that filth from the soles in the basins used to wash clothing. Granted that it created more work because then he had to clean the basin, and he had to walk barefooted through the halls to get replacements which made him look undignified for a few moments (bare feet were to be reserved for private chambers and baths), but he really liked these boots. And he kept them in near perfect condition upon receiving them (as oppose to his lord’s boot which he allowed the elements to eat away at).

"Are you sure that’s what you want Lindir?" His lips drawn into a puzzled line and his eyes lidded with suspicion.

"Yes. I think that I could benefit from it for many reasons. I don’t travel often, and when I do it is usually on foot with a small company of guards to protect me and any other civilian with us. But, if we wished to shorten the trip, it could be beneficial for me to learn. And there is talk of restlessness from Mithandir. Suppose danger were to fall upon Rivendell. Evacuation could also be eased if I could ride to supervise it from the height of a mount as well as be more visible to those I’d be leading." It was the truth, but why couldn’t he meet Erestor’s eyes? Perhaps because of his friend’s own gaze, as if he could sense omission.

"Aren’t you forgetting the most important reason?" The adviser’s voice full of sudden humor.

"And that would be?" The head servant lifted his head. His arm propped upon the mantel of the unlit fireplace.

"The simple joy of riding…"

"This is merely practical.." He interrupted, almost insulted by the mere insinuation that he could ever enjoy bouncing on the backs of those fierce beasts.

"…with our Lord." Undisturbed by the interruption, in fact it made him smile much more when Lindir was so quick to cut off what his insinuation could be. And the startled, truly blushing face of his friend made him laugh, loud and clipped. "You are almost adorable, your youthful qualities displayed u in your flushed skin and wide eyes. Lindir, I’ve known you for so long. Do you think, as your ever observant friend that I wouldn’t notice something so dear to your heart?"

Lindir’s blush subsided subtly and his lips curled almost bashfully, “I should have realized.” This was only Erestor, where would be the harm to allow him to know his true intentions to ride? The elf was his shoulder to cry on after all, he him so well and the motives for his actions. He didn’t want to seem doting, wanton, desperate for closeness to his Lord. Feelings or not, he’d kept them well hidden, didn’t let them interfere with his duties.

"I will meet you tomorrow morning in the fields beyond the pass. I will choose for you a stead that will be gentle enough so as not to…make you uncomfortable." That slight tinge to that last word made Lindir glance away. Of course he would know that too. But like a true friend, he left it unsaid.

"Thank you"

 

Of course he recognized he mare Erestor chose for him. His little saboteur from the other day.

"Stop looking so concerned. I promised you the gentlest horse I could didn’t I? She may be a bit young, energetic, but I assure you, you’ll be safe as long as I am here." Erestor said with a gentle tease, smiled at his friend and patted the saddle.

Once again Lindir kept his wear simple, a tunic and leggings. If this was to be his first time riding, he decided it would go easier if his robes were light. Less chance of his clothing catching upon anything and tugging him from his ride. And while his skin was closer to the eyes of his kin beneath air thin fabric, he braced himself in his mirror that no one could see. Let them whisper what they will but they wouldn’t know. And besides, in the damp morning light, it was only himself and Erestor.

"Alright Lindir, I want you to swing up onto the horse by putting your leg like this, and the other foot in my palm. I’ll help push you up. Make sure to take hold of the reins to prevent you falling off the edge."

The head of house eyed the beast for a moment, staring her in the eyes as if to remind her that he would cause her no harm if she would do the same for him. Worried, eyes, wide with a deep fear. Thankfully he broke the gaze to glance at his friend. Erestor, so patient, smiled encouragingly at him, hand still upon the saddle as if to keep it warm.

A firm in take of breath and a tightened grip of his fist, he was ready. He would go see those flowers in the fields.

****

At first the ride had started well A few slips on the saddle, unaccustomed to having his legs spread so wide (it stung to have the muscles so stretched). With only a few corrections, Erestor helped guide the horse in smooth, slow circles. After a half hour at least, Lindir began holding his head higher. That confidence in which he navigated the halls of the house was now seeping into this and Erestor let go of the reins.

"I would like you to direct her yourself. Pull the reins firmly but gently to get her to turn in the direction you’d like her to go or she would wander as she pleased. Make sure to hold on with your legs, you’ don’t have to squeeze overly hard, but you seem to be a tad loose on the saddle. How are your thighs? It is okay if they hurt a bit, most of the time it hurts when you are not used to it."

"When does the ache leave?" Lindir’s eyes fixated between in front of him and the reins in his hands now that he had fully control over the animal. Slow, steady, so far no disrupts.

"Depends on the person and how often you wish to practice. After a few consistent weeks, then your body adjusts. It is a full bodied activity, exercise that when you are a much more confident rider, you’ll experience."

It was for another hour of riding. The dim light of morning brightening into early afternoon as Lindir rode in more than just the comfortable circles and even picked up the pace.

"You are doing very well Lindir. You’ve already improved so much since the first time you began this morning. I’m highly impressed. You take direction well. How are you feeling? Are you still….uncomfortable with the horse?"

Lindir pulled the reins and the mare stopped, he looked at his friend and appreciated that he did not tease him about his fear of the beasts though he couldn’t remember if he’d expressed this fear. A testament of his friend’s astute gifts.

"She seems tame enough. And while I cannot say that I am not cured of my…dislike I am fine. My heart has long since stopped racing.” And he gave a small smile. A rare and heart warming thing to see Lindir smiling so joyously.

"Is it also the prospects of riding out one morning with a certain Lord’s company?" Ah, there was the tinge of color in his cheeks.

"I make no comment." There was a hint of a laugh in the younger elf’s voiced as he once again prompted the horse to move.

And for the next five minutes, he rode steady, confidently in the small area knowing he was safe with Erestor, that no one else could see him.

The bee, that loud, harmless honey bee proved an undoing. The elf felt no concern of being stung. Bees generally caused no harm nor instilled fear in elves for the little creatures tended to leave them alone. The same could not be said for horses.

It happened in a blur of motion. Buzzes filled the horse’s ear as the bee flew around her head. At first a few bucks of the head while startling to Lindir, were only a sign of her discomfort. Nothing dangerous. That was until the bee went into her ear.

For nothing more than a second or two, Lindir’s heart stopped, he could see nothing but the sky as he felt his hair surge from behind his head to hit his face. His bum and legs tilted upwards into a V as his hands slipped from the reins. And before he hit the earth, he had somehow twisted to land on his left side.

The snapped, sharp pain in his side knocked the wind from his slender frame and caring not for the dirt currently plastering itself to sweaty skin, he rolled to the uninjured right, clutching and curling as if being smaller would rid him of this pain. Hair shrouded his reddened face, hiding pain and humiliation. Why had he attempted such a thing? To impress someone who might not even notice nor care?

“Lindir!” Erestor’s voice high and loud, “Can you breathe?” Thick fingers reached for his jaw, two finger tips gentle and rough tiled his chin upwards. Creased brows, wide eyes searched his. Tears blurring the image of his close friend.

“Can you try to breath for me?”

Air, cool and shaking pasted between Lindir’s lips. Whips traveled beyond his lungs and rattling, stabbing knock of his lower ribs forced a groaned, “It hurts.”

“You’ll need to get it looked at. Elrond can mend bones with ease, for now he can search for anything internal and take away the pain.” Knees fell into wet sight, “Come here.” And oh so slowly, Lindir felt the dirt fall below him as Erestor cradled his frame to his.

 

Thankfully Erestor was strong enough to both carry the injured Lindir (though the other elf was quite light) and propel his legs swifty to arrive in Elrond’s medical chamber and lay a dirty, pained mistrial on the padded table.

"I’ll be back shortly. You’re fine Lindir, it won’t take long I promise."

The agonized pants nearly drowned his friend’s words out as he clenched watered eyes and brought his knees up to his chest. He almost laughed to himself bitterly. This is the reason he could never be by his lord’s side. Pain capsized his very being, he was a delicate elf. And in Elvish culture never scorned the lack of physical capability and glorified the unique gifts all elves possessed be it with a sword or not. Never had Lindir desired to alter his heart in it’s path, but he couldn’t even ride a simple horse properly. Even human children could do such a task with so little fear and here he was, centuries old, apart of the most graceful race to walk the ground of Middle Earth, flat on his back crying with a cracked rib. If Erestor heard any of this he would most likely tell Lindir is foolishness in thinking the fall was his fault. Logically it wasn’t of course, but it couldn’t push back the embarrassment of such a horrible dismount. And damn this pain. How could the wardens handle the training to cope with this pain let alone the actual pain of being hurt by an enemy?

There was no telling how long he lay there. When waiting for relief it could feel like days had passed when mere moments ticked by. To say that the jolt in his heart wasn’t due to the returning foot falls of his friend and the heavier yet still graceful would be false.

With his eyes closed he had to rely on his ears.

"If you could wait outside and close the door, I think it would be best to examine him in privacy." A soothing, calm firm voice ordered subtly. Elrond remained collected in any situation presented and it made the younger elf smile just a bit at the thought of his lord being concerned for him, healing him.

There were more footsteps, two sets. One moving away and shutting a door behind them and the other bringing the owner closer to Lindir’s side. And a gentle grip took hold of the arm he’d not realized had draped over his eyes.

"Lindir, I’ll need you to put your arms to your side and lay flat on your back." At the mild groan he received Elrond continued with his cooed tone, "Please. It is necessary. I know it hurts, but it’ll hurt worse if you don’t let me have a look."

And slowly, stingingly, sharply, Lindir straightened his legs, turned over onto his back, and lowered his arms to his side. All the while, his lord watched patiently and in his blurred vision, no judgment, only concern etched those strong features he longed to run his finger over. To write songs about…and that’s when a particularly deep breath sent crackles of signals down his side.

"Thank you, alright, let’s see how estensive this is." And if it hadn’t shocked him so much Lindir would’ve shouted as Elrond pressed his hand against his side.

"Well, I don’t see any signs of internal damage, it feels only as if you’ve fractured a rib. I can fix this for you. It’ll be a day or so, but you’ll be alright. I need you to remove your shirts though."

"What?"

 

He’d already been undoing the buttons, starting from the bottom since Lindir was still a bit curled into himself. The pain had lessened with laying down, with the soothing atmosphere, and the calm command Elrond yielded over him. And that changed when he’d realized just how close Elrond’s fingers were drawing up to his chest.

"My lord, wait a minute!" Startled, Lindir’s body jerked away, and immediately fell back against the padding with a garbled breath of pain.  
Despite the pulse of his heart, the build up of tears of the anticipation of disgust on Elrond’s face…he could do nothing but lay there. The crackled rub of fractured bone against bone in his side wouldn’t allow him to struggle away.

"Lindir?" Elrond watched the panic widened the younger elf’s eyes before dirtied face scrunched back. He’d felt the brief, weak grasp of the mistrial’s hand upon his soldier’s wrist for a moment before it’d fallen back to the table, clutching at his damaged side.

 

"Why do you draw away from me? Surely you know I will not harm you? Do you not wish for me to help you ease your pain? To help you heal?" When he didn’t answer, when his head servant turned his face to bury it into his arm, hiding from him, Elrond grew worried. A trickle across the mind of concern. "Lindir, answer me." And after a moment, "Please."

"I wish not to remove my shirt my lord." Was the whispered reply. Shame, embarrassment pushed out in the near silent words. "Please my lord."

Elrond’s shoulders straightened for a moment. He had to be gentle with Lindir. Lindir was soft, not like his subborinates on the field, not like Erestor who’d known him for longer, he had to be careful. Clearly, out of shyness, out of perhaps a fear of crossing status boundries, out of some deeper fear, Lindir was not prepared to be bared to his eyes and hands.

"What troubles you Lindir?" And he’d done something he’d done with his children when they were younger and non-forthcoming, he sat upon the table next to his patient and placed a light touch to his brow.

That touch. Intimate and friendly. Through the lift of the hairs of his eyebrow, the light scrap of callous on the skin, Lindir forgot for a moment where he was. Never had his lord paid him any such caress. Simple though this may be, his mind cleared for a moment. And like water, clear, smooth, fluid, his mouth opened.

"I…wish for you not to see me."

"See you? Why would you not wish for me to see you?" Elrond waited, he had his suspicions fairly confirmed by this point, but perhaps Lindir would lower his guard if he was given time to get his fears out.

"My…chest is…is…"

Perhaps he needed encouragement. So much like how his boys were when they had a secret when they were elflings, “Are you concerned by perhaps having scars on your skin?”

Whirl of long hair and stunned eyes blurred as the head servant turned his head to look at his Lord. How could he…

"I guessed. You did not wish for me to see your body despite being hurt. I simply guessed at what could cause such distress. And forgive me, but I doubt your pain tolerance is high enough to hold out against status differences." Large lips curled upward in a sealed grin.

Despite himself, Lindir chuckled and glanced away.

"I would not tell anyone you understand. This is between us." Elrond, brought his finger below Lindir’s chin to ensure they were looking at each other, "Besides, you are not the only one who carries injuries." Slowly, the older elf stood and began to undo his own buttons.

The pumping of blood in Lindir’s throat hurt, his eyes opened, un-moving from his lord’s frame. Thick fabric, embroidered with swirled, curved treads fell to the floor with no care. For an instant the instinct to pick up the garment and bring it down to the washroom floated in Lindir’s sluggish thoughts, and had his object of affection hadn’t been undressing in front of him, he might’ve laughed. Already it was hard not to lick his lips, his pain, though present, had almost been forgotten as his attention had been diverted.

Shimmering white stood out as Elrond’s undershirt revealed itself to the light. Like in the stables, when the tunic showed shape, the white fabric clung smoothly to the muscles of the warrior’s body. He didn’t even notice the sly grin upon his lord’s face. How could Elrond not notice the wandering eyes of the younger elf? It was flattering honestly. Made him feel young himself.

With less teasing he supposed, he hastened to undo the fastenings of the last of his clothes to bare himself for his apparent admirer. And with feather like weight of elvish fabric, the shirt wafted to join its companion on the floor.

If ever scars could be beautiful, surely they were upon the chest and stomach of Lord Elrond. Long scratches, some whitened, some with pink tinges, some deeper, some jagged, his lord’s muscles body was a canvas for battle’s past. While they were not in excess, they were not few either.

"You see? You have nothing to worry about." And Elrond began approaching him again. "Let me remove your shirt."

This time, when Elrond’s fingers worked at the single shirt Lindir wore, the elf did not fight. He allowed himself to be bare before another for the first time since he was a child.

They were large, healed burns. Melted skin scars that’d been formed years ago and stretched as he’d grown.

"May I ask?"

Lindir closed his eyes, and smiled with no actual amusement and said, “A horse had reared up and knocked me into a fire when I was twelve.”

"That must be why you are uneasy around the steads."

"You truely notice everything."

"Comes with being a father, a Lord, and leader of armies."

And then there was silence as Elrond went about examining the skin where the bones were. Now that he could see the skin, yes there was some bruising, but he could mend this within a few days. For now….

Ironic, the one thing he craved the most was Elrond’s touch and it was when he was getting an injury attended to. But the fact that not only was the older elf scarred like himself but mere centimeters from him, bared from the waist up. The heat of his skin teasing his as the other’s frame leaned over him a bit as the soothing balm rushed the pain from him.

After a moment Elrond pulled away, “This will help with the pain until I can make your medicine. When I do, you’ll only have to take it for a few days and your bones will be fully mended.”

And with no meek blush, no hesitation in his words, “Thank you…Elrond.” The title not forgotten.

"You’re welcome Lindir." They shared a moment of eye contact and smiled.

For a moment Lindir laid there, enjoying the eyes on him, the air on his skin, he didn’t want to go back yet. But he sat up gingerly, bent at the waist, it stung but it was bearable until he could have it fixed.

Already Elrond’s clothes had found their way back to his body, last few buttons slipping into their holes. He began to leave the room, regal robes floated behind him. Just as he reached the door he said, “Lindir?”

"Yes?"

"Why not join me tonight in my chambers. You can tell me more stories of when you were younger. Perhaps more pleasant ones."

Lindir paused, before taking an inner count to 3, “I would enjoy that very much. Provided you share stories of your own.”

"Of course. Come to me when your duties are done for the day. We shall share some wine."


End file.
